**Fate**
The day had not gone well.
Such things happened, Thomas knew that, but still, he was tired of it all.
He pondered life.
What had he achieved? Nearing forty, hed finished school, trained as a mechanic, and done his national service.
He had a flat, a wife, and two children, drove an old banger to a ridiculous allotment where he had to toil endlessly.
Lazing about with a pint wasnt for himno, there were beds to dig, weeds to pull, and rubbish to clear. Wheelbarrows of soil to haul, grass to mow. The shed roof had caved in, the fence had rotted and fallen.
The tram rattled and groaned like an old tin can as it swayed along the tracks. Thomas sat by the window, watching the streetlamps flicker to life, forming a glowing chain in the dusk, lost in thought.
He thought about his life.
On paper, it was all as it should befamily, job, the allotment, the paycheck, the kids, his parents, the in-laws.
Football on weekends and a pint after a steam at the allotment shed…
Holidays and birthdays with the family, everything ordinary, everything as expected.
And yet, Thomas suddenly realised it had all become dull, quiet, predictable. He wanted something moreexcitement, new sensations.
It struck himhed always been the calm one, the easy one, the one who never rocked the boat. Had he ever truly chosen his own path? Or had he simply followed the one laid out for him?
What if he could start over?
For some reason, he thought of Lucy, his first love. He remembered their walks, hand in hand, the dreams theyd shared, their first kisshow theyd kissed until they were dizzy.
Thomas wiped his misty eyes.
It could have all been so different…
Lucybright, lively, always with a mischievous smile. How hed grieved when they parted. Then hed met Margaret, the very opposite of Lucysteady, reliable. With Margaret, everything was sensible, measured.
Want to take her to bed? Only after marriage.
Brought her flowers? Stolen from the park beds?
“Fool, you couldve been caught, fined, dragged before the parish council…”
And so it went.
Right after the wedding, shed started calling his parents *Mum* and *Dad*. Shed settled into domestic life effortlessly. His parents adored herclever, kind, accommodating, a natural homemaker.
But was this what hed wanted? Maybe hed…
Thomas sank deeper into his thoughts.
Theyd never fought… Hed been too cautious, never taken the leap. And Lucy? Shed vanished, gone without a trace. Later, someone said shed married.
At the next stop, the tram lurched, doors screeching. One tide of passengers spilled out, another flooded in, dispersing through the carriage.
Thomas stood and squeezed toward the rearthree stops to go. He rarely took the tram these days, used to his own car, shabby as it was.
Turning back to the window, he heard a voicebright, familiar.
“Tommy, please, stand still for once.”
He turned, scanning the crowd for the speaker, but couldnt place her.
Tired faces, worn down by life, stared blankly ahead or out into the dark.
A stout woman gripped the hand of a boy, about ten, who fidgeted, desperate to tell her something.
“Mum, did you knowVeronica”
“Thomas, I said *behave*.”
“But, Mum, I *need* to tell you”
“Later.”
“I dont *want* later! At home, youll cook, then listen to Annie drone on about her beaus, then Stevens university dramas. Then you and Dad will natter about that stupid allotment. What about *me*? Why was *I* born last? And this stupid name”
“Dont be ridiculous. Its a fine name.”
“Oh, sure. *Tommy the sparrow, rode a horse, crashed into a tree, lost his trousers*thats what they chant at me! Mum*Mum*”
“You ought to listen to your boy,” piped an elderly woman with dyed-red hair and a crimson beret. “One day, he wont want to talk to you at all.”
The mother snorted and shot a sharp glance at Thomas. Their eyes metjust for a secondbefore she turned back to her son.
“Go on, then. But *quietly*.”
The boy babbled eagerly as she leaned in.
And then it hit him*Lucy*.
Of course. How had he not recognised her at once?
So this was the life he might have lived. That boy could have been *his* son, ignored while Lucy chattered with older siblings. *His* allotment shed complain about.
Would he have been happier with her all these years? Unlikely.
She hadnt known himjust another stranger on the tram.
Suddenly, Thomas felt lighter. His routines with Margaret, the children, even the allotmentnone of it seemed so grey anymore. The fishing trips with his father-in-law… He smiled. No, Margaret *always* listened.
His life was good. Better than good.
Funnyif his car hadnt broken down, he might have wallowed in misery for weeks.
As the tram slowed, Thomas edged toward the exit, pausing beside Lucy and the boy. He bent and whispered something. The boys eyes widened, then he grinned, even giggled.
Thomas stepped off into the night, heading home.
“What did he say?” Lucy asked.
“That man? He taught me how to answer that bully.”
“How?”
*”If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingall noise, no sense.”*
“He always had a sharp tongue.”
“Who, Mum? That man? You *know* him?”
“Dont be silly.”
Lucy sank onto a freed-up seat, pulling her son close. Still a long ride ahead. Her husband hadnt been able to fetch them todayjust as well. Lately, shed been restless, dissatisfied…
Shed started wondering how life might have been if shed waited for Thomas instead of marrying Michael.
And now fate had thrown them together.
A plain man in his forties, a little paunch, thinning hair, trudging home after work. All the magic, the sparkgone.
“Tommy… lets bake a cake tonight.”
“Really, Mum? A *chocolate marble*?”
“Alright, a marble one.”
“Hooray!”
“Hush! Must you shout?”
Michael had insisted on naming their son after his grandfather. Lucy hadnt objected.
A fine name.
Thomas ducked into a florist near home, just before closing. Only three white carnations left in the display.
“How much?”
“Eh?” The shopgirl glared, weary.
“For the flowers.”
“None left. Cant you see?”
“These?”
“Ohtake em.”
“I cant justheres a quid at least.”
“Dont be daft. Go onwait, let me wrap”
“Dont bother.”
At home, he handed the flowers to Margaret. Instead of scolding him for wasting money, she smiled softly.
“Whats this?”
“Just… felt like making you smile.”
That evening, sprawled on the sofa, he listened as she murmured into the phone in the hall, door half-shut.
*”Mine brought me flowers today… no, hes always been like this… a bit of a romantic, deep down…”*
